


Pieces of Me You've Never Seen

by Leloi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Open Marriage, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Recovery, References to overdose, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloi/pseuds/Leloi
Summary: “What’s this?”  Sherlock woke to John’s voice.  His body heavy and he didn’t even have the energy to open his eyes.  John was in the room.“A notebook containing all of his lists.”  Mycroft’s voice answered.Great… Mycroft was there, sticking his unusually large nose where it did not belong.“Wait… This is my wedding day!”  John gasped.“Yes… If you look through you will find that the creative post on your blog coincided with a particularly long list.”“He was… Wow.”  It wasn’t a sound of awe, more like horror.  “I don’t understand.”  Pages flipped.  “Oh wow… There are so many days…”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This began life as a second chapter for the fic I wrote called "Pieces of Me." The title is a continuation of the lyrics from "Tear in Your Hand" by Tori Amos. It takes place after Abominable Bride.
> 
> "And I think there are pieces of me you've never seen, maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen."
> 
> You can read this as a continuation of that fic or as a stand alone.

“What’s this?” 

Sherlock woke to John’s voice. His body heavy and he didn’t even have the energy to open his eyes. John was in the room.

“A notebook containing all of his lists.” Mycroft’s voice answered.

Great… Mycroft was there, sticking his unusually large nose where it did not belong.

“Wait… This is my wedding day!” John gasped.

“Yes… If you look through you will find that the creative post on your blog coincided with a particularly long list.”

“He was… Wow.” It wasn’t a sound of awe, more like horror. “I don’t understand.” Pages flipped. “Oh wow… There are so many days…”

“There is something you must understand about my brother…” Mycroft began much to the annoyance of the semi-conscious Sherlock.

Sherlock struggled against his body, trying to force himself awake and moving so the conversation would end.

“There are many under the assumption that my brother doesn’t feel. That is not true. The truth is that he feels too much. And when he feels too much he is inevitably hurt. His way to feel numb again is to self-medicate. The more he feels the more he takes to be numb.” 

Sherlock hated his voice. Desperately he tried to make some movement… Anything to make it end.

“I don’t understand.” John’s voice was soft and broken.

“He has a heart, John. He will always deny it, but it’s the truth. Notice any particular pattern about the days?” 

Damn it to hell he hated Mycroft and his meddling! But his body would not cooperate. Instead he was stuck in some conscious limbo where he was just awake enough to hear their conversation and yet unable to do anything about it.

“Me.” John whispered.

And success! Left pinkie managed to twitch. But it was not enough movement to alert them to his awareness.

“This is my fault.” John’s voice was broken. “I did this to him.”

“It’s not your fault. My brother chose not to tell you what affect you had on him. You could not know how devastated he was to return only to lose you.” 

Damn that Mycroft! And success! Left hand grip into the mattress. But… Oh bother… Hand is hidden under the blanket. 

“I… I can’t…” John’s voice gave out and there was a dip on the edge of the bed. 

“I warned him not to…”

“You warned him not to?” Suddenly John’s voice was very cold and sharp. It gave Sherlock pause to hear it.

“I warned him not to become too attached. He was only setting himself up for pain by participating in your nuptials.”

“Or perhaps you could have told him something else.” John’s voice was low… Dangerous.

“What?” Mycroft was uncertain. Interesting… Mycroft hadn’t anticipated John having a suggestion.

“You could have told him to tell me before I got married.”

“What difference would that make? As you are so fond of saying… You are not gay!” 

“If I had known my best friend was suffering because of something I did I would like to have known about it!” John growled. Really… Sherlock rather enjoyed when John was in his protective soldier mode.

“But you’re not gay!” Mycroft insisted.

“It doesn’t matter! I hurt him! God… Mycroft… He nearly overdosed and died. Because he gave up on me.” There was a small sob in John’s throat. “He could have asked me… He could have told me. But both of you came up with the solution to hide it! And instead of facing it and working it out with me he just gave up… Self-destructed. Do you have any idea how many soldiers I have seen give up? I was one of them. All I had left was a small bedsit and my gun. I had no future until Sherlock gave me one.”

“He’s awake.” God damn Mycroft to hell to be tortured for all eternity… Why the hell would he interrupt John now to say such a thing?

Instantly John was on him, touching his face and forehead, checking him over. “Sherlock? You there?” His voice was full of concern, only a faint indication that he had just been emotional.

A grunt escaped Sherlock’s throat. 

“Are you thirsty? You must be thirsty. Here’s some water.” His head was elevated and a glass pressed to his lips. “Drink. Little sips.”

Sherlock obeyed, grateful for the cool water.

“How is he doing?” Mycroft asked as if that was his concern all along.

“He’s through the worst of it.” John answered, smoothing back his hair. “Mary and I take shifts to watch over him… So he’s never alone.”

“And the sustenance I send is to your liking?” Mycroft queried.

“Yes. Thank you. It’s really helpful to have meals ready.” John’s voice sounded dull as if he was just going through the polite motions.

“I’ll return tomorrow. If you need anything else, anything at all, you know how to find me.” And with that his footsteps retreated, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

John carefully lay his head back down on the pillow and shifted so he was the big spoon against Sherlock’s back. Sometimes when Sherlock woke over the past few days he found himself to be the little spoon with John resting beside him. On some level he knew it wasn’t Doctor John who comforted him by being near, but his friend John. John’s arm wrapped around his waist. “If you’re up for it I can help you take a bath.” Idly his thumb rubbed Sherlock’s stomach.

Sherlock relaxed against the warmth that pressed against his back. “Mm…” For a moment he wondered if his tone expressed agreement or not.

The hand that was on his belly shifted to touch his hair, fingering the curls. “Wash your hair.” John’s breath was warm against the back of his neck.

“Yes.” Finally a word. 

John took a deep breath and re-established his arm around Sherlock’s waist, pressing his head between the detective’s shoulder blades. “How much did you hear?” The voice was muffled.

“Notebook.” Words were getting easier, but they still came out a little muddled.

Behind him John shifted so his chest pressed against Sherlock’s back and his chin rested somewhere behind his shoulder. “Sherlock… You could have told me.”

“And what would you’ve done?” Actually it sounded more like “n wa whuchove dun” but John didn’t seem to notice.

John’s arm tightened around him, fingers open over his heart as his face pressed against neck. “I don’t know. But we would have figured something out.” For a long moment John held tight before loosening his grip. “You need a bath. A warm bath, some clean pajamas… A change of sheets. Some toast and tea.” As John listed off Sherlock’s needs he became a little more animated. “Be right back.” And with a brief kiss to Sherlock’s temple he was off and out the door, calling for Mary.

Within a few minutes Mary appeared with the spare sheets in her arms. “Well look who is back!”

In the bathroom the water in the tub started. 

“Feeling better?” Mary leaned against the doorframe to regard him.

“I’m awake.”

“That’s progress.” Mark smiled at him, eyes full of amusement. “Mycroft was just here.”

“I know.” Sherlock answered.

“Did he wake you up? I’ll beat him up for you.”

Sherlock gave a soft chuckle at the thought of a heavily pregnant Mary attacking his brother. 

“So… You’re going to take a bath with my husband?”

“He’s helping me.” Sherlock answered, unsure if he was interpreting her question correctly.

“He gets into your pants before you get into his. Interesting.” 

“Stop it. I know he’s not gay.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at her.

“No… He’s not gay. I’d say bisexual, but not gay. I know what he did when he was in Afghanistan.”

At that moment John appeared. “What about Afghanistan?”

“Never mind…” Sherlock closed his eyes, covering them with his arm. 

“So I’ll give him a bath. Can you remake the bed?” John asked of Mary.

“I’m already on it. Once you haul his lanky ass off to the tub I’ll strip the bed.” Mary winked at him.

John pulled Sherlock up, allowing the taller man to lean heavily upon him. “Well… We’re off.”

“Take your time!” Mary called after them. “Make sure every inch of him is clean.”

John helped the weakened brunette to fully undress before assisting him into the warm water. “Budge up and I’ll wash your back.” Reaching for the flannel and the soap he began the long process of scrubbing Sherlock’s skin, careful with the many scars that crossed his back. 

Sherlock relaxed into the touch, breathing in the steam and reveling in the sensation of the heat soaking into his muscles. John passed him the flannel and the soap so he could wash more of himself. But halfway through he just let the flannel float and the soap sink.

John grabbed the flannel, wrung it out and gently wiped at Sherlock’s face. “We still have to wash your hair.” The flannel worked its way down his neck to his shoulders and chest. As it reached water level it stopped and was allowed to float in the water. “Do you feel better?”

“I hate withdrawal.”

“You know what the solution is, don’t you?” John taunted. “Don’t start again.”

“I can’t help it. I need it sometimes.”

“From the looks of that notebook, you needed it all the time.”

Sherlock stared down at his knee, his hand idly rubbing his thigh.

“You can say it.”

“What?” Sherlock whispered.

“I love you, John.”

Sherlock stayed mute, staring down into the water. 

“And I will say, ‘I love you too, Sherlock.’ What might you say to me after that?”

Sherlock shook his head, unable to answer.

“You might say, ‘don’t go’ or ‘stay with me, John. I need you.’” John caught the flannel again and busied himself, running it over his exposed kneecaps. “Where is the soap?”

Sherlock reached down between his legs and caught it where it drifted near his left butt cheek. Lifting it out of the water he presented it to John who took it from him to rub it into the flannel.

Absently John used the soapy flannel on Sherlock’s shoulder he had already scrubbed. “You might say other things too. There is so much you could say.”

“I have no experience with that.” Sherlock answered, arching his back a bit as John rubbed the flannel over his chest. “I don’t know what to say because I’ve never had to say it.”

“You seduced Janine. I’m sure you could come up with something clever.”

“But all I did was repeat stuff I had read. It wasn’t like I meant any of it. It wasn’t like it mattered.”

John ran the flannel lower, under the waterline as he rubbed at Sherlock’s belly.

Sherlock gave a soft grunt and his arms caught on the edge of the tub as he lifted his hips a little bit as if to meet John’s descending hand.

John paused, watching Sherlock’s face. “Is there something you would like to say to me right now?” 

Sherlock glanced down at the water and then back up at John’s face. “If you go any lower we will have to change the water because I haven’t yet washed my hair.”

John blinked and glanced down, blushing faintly before resuming eye contact. “Oh. Yes. Good point. Perhaps we should do that now.”

Sherlock held his nose and lay back, uncaring that John could see everything. Let him see what he had caused. Sitting back up again, he pushed the hair from his eyes and felt strong hands come down on his scalp, working in the shampoo. “Or we could just take a shower. We wouldn’t have to worry about changing the water.”

“I don’t know if you have the strength to stand up for that long.” John responded, working up a really good lather.

“You could help me stand.”

The fingers on his scalp stopped. “I think we get into enough mischief by my staying clothed for this, thank you. Besides… Mary might worry if we take too long. She will think we have fallen and drowned.”

“In the shower?”

“It only takes an inch of water.”

“You have been reading too many baby books.”

“Yep.” John popped the P. His fingers worked in tandem, massaging Sherlock’s skull. There were some spots that made him flinch, others that made him shift in surprise or gasp out as the sensation somehow resonated with his tailbone. “Alright… Let’s rinse you off.”

And with that Sherlock was back under, holding his nose as John’s hands massaged the suds out of his hair and into the water. Finally he broke surface and breathed normally as John continued to work the suds out. They popped and fizzed around his ears. A hand cradled the back of his head and pulled him up. Another hand pushed the hair back from his eyes and he opened them to see John’s face, frowning in concern. “John?”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing…” Sherlock took the flannel and used it to wipe his face of any remaining suds.

John grabbed a towel and set it aside before helping Sherlock rise from the tub and set the towel around his shoulders. For a while he dried, causing curls to fluff up. “Much better.” And with that he helped him into his robe before he guided him out of the tub and out of the bathroom to the bedroom. 

Mary tossed a pillow back onto the bed and headed for the door. “I’ll just go make him something to eat, shall I?”

“Nothing too strenuous.”

“I am a nurse.” Mary stated as she left the room.

John fussed over Sherlock, helping him onto the bed as if he was an invalid, fetching his pajamas as if he was a weakling. The robe was removed and the pajamas added. And then he guided Sherlock back into the freshly made bed, setting pillows behind him so he could sit up.

“Your hovering is… Odd.” Sherlock stated.

“Is it?” John replied.

“Like you can’t trust me to take care of myself.”

“Well maybe right now you don’t need to take care of yourself so you should just sit back and relax as I do it for you.”

“And will you stand with me at the toilet when I have to use it?”

John frowned and glanced in the direction of the bathroom. “I did that.”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. 

“Alright, so it was a bed pan.”

They sat in silence, Sherlock just a little surprised at the lengths John went to for his sake.

Finally Mary returned with a plate and a mug of tea. “Here we are. I’ll sit with him, John. Your breakfast is waiting on the table.”

“Thank you.” John passed her and kissed her cheek on the way out. 

Mary watched him go with a smile and then turned to Sherlock. “I’m going to watch you eat every bite.” Vaguely she indicated the plate with two slices of toast.

“Of course you are.” Sherlock noted as he took up a triangle of toast and bit into a corner.

“Before I forget I have something for you.” Mary reached into her pocket for a small box, tossing on the bed where it landed beside Sherlock’s knee. With some effort she managed to sit in a comfortable chair that had been placed in the room.

Sherlock chewed his toast and glanced at the box. A word on the packaging caught his eye and he picked it up to get a better look. “Condoms?”

“Mm…” Mary hummed in agreement, biting her lips in amusement.

“Why do I need a box of condoms?”

“All of your tests so far have come back negative. There are still a few more that need to be taken to be sure.” Mary answered brightly.

Sherlock stared at the box of condoms. His finger broke the seal and he pulled out a length of condoms. They were non-descript. Just the brand and type. There was an expiration date set a little over a year. “They expire in fourteen months.”

“Your tests should be done long before then.”

“I don’t understand.” The condoms passed through his fingers. What was she trying to tell him?

“Well… We’ll all be happy. You will get John. I will have John but if something happens to me he will have you. I also need someone I can trust to help him raise our daughter. Let’s face it. What I used to be may come back to haunt me and what will happen to my child and husband should that happen? Isn’t it better that I know he has someone there for him? Someone I approve of?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, still unsure.

“They’re for when you get into his pants.” Mary waved at the box.

Carefully he folded up the roll and placed them back in the box. “This would imply that John would be on the receiving end.”

Mary shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. The point is that if you need them you have them.”

“Why do I need them at all?”

“Just a precaution. Keep them in the drawer.” Mary opened the night stand and waited for Sherlock to place them inside before shutting the drawer. “There. If you need them, that’s where they will be.”

“I don’t know if I will need them…”

“Can I ask you something?” Mary asked, slouching a bit in the chair to find a more comfortable position.

“What?”

“About your OD… How did you get the drugs and when did you take them?”

“I bribed the guards. One guard at a time until I accumulated enough. I took most of it before I was placed in the car. I knew my limit and I was there. And when I took my seat I took the last bit that would take me over the edge.”

“You didn’t anticipate being called back or Moriarty.”

“I didn’t.” Sherlock shook his head. “I sat back and waited for the end to come… I would just drift away in a dream never to awaken. I read John’s blog and just… Drifted away.”

“You mentioned 1895.”

“We were in 1895. John’s blog stopped at 1895 views. I suppose that is why we were there.”

“How was it?”

“Dreadful. Dirty. It was like some costume drama. Everyone was completely exaggerated.”

“That’s what you get for watching too many costume dramas.”

“I haven’t seen them!” Sherlock looked to her in surprise. “At least I don’t remember ever doing so.”

“What was John like?”

“The same. Except…”

“Except?” Mary echoed, eyebrows raised in expectation.

“Except it seems I was successful in luring him away from your marriage.”

“Ahh… What was I? The cuckold wife?”

“You were a suffragette.”

“Well that’s good.”

“And you worked for Mycroft.” 

“I have NEVER worked for Mycroft. Was Mycroft there?”

“He was… There was a lot more of him there.” The image of a much heavier Mycroft came to mind.

“What else?”

“There’s not much else. Mycroft called me and Moriarty’s message invaded my dream, twisting it into something else. It became a case. And then you lot did your first aid thing and brought me back, forcing me to live and deal with my pain instead of hiding from it.”

Mary smiled warmly. “That’s because we love you.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “If you truly loved me you would have let me be over with it instead of keeping me around to torture me.”

“Is that what this is, torture? You’ve been tortured. I read your file. Does this really compare to that?”

“All that time in Serbia at least I had the hope that John was alive, waiting for me.”

“And finding out that he didn’t wait for you broke you. So you started using again to numb the pain of loss.”

Sherlock stared up at the ceiling, desperately trying not to be emotional with her words.

“I don’t want to take him from you.” Mary’s words were gentle. “Use the condoms. You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t know how to do any of that…”

“What’s to know?”

“And what do I say? Oi, John… Fancy a shag?”

“A what?” John’s voice came from the doorway.

Both Sherlock and Mary looked to the doorway where John stood wearing fresh clothes.

“Never mind…” Sherlock sighed, frustrated with John’s timing.

“Are you back on watch?” Mary asked as she used the arms of the chair to help push herself up into a standing position.

“Yes. It’s still early enough for you to go do your thing. Mycroft is sending a car for your sole usage.”

“Don’t… It’s a trap.” Sherlock muttered, miserable from the bed.

“No doubt with several assistants so I don’t have to do anything in my condition.” Mary chuckled as she moved towards the door. 

“Possibly. He’s been very generous with his aid ever since we’ve been condemned to living like hermits.” John grinned at her. 

“Can you handle lunch? Or should I be back early?”

“I’ll drag him into the kitchen with me. He can’t lay in bed all day. Maybe he’ll let me feed him.”

“Then I’ll take my time.” With a smile and a kiss she was off, waddling away.

John watched her go from where he stood in the hallway before turning to look at the moping brunette on the bed. “What have you two been scheming about?”

“We don’t scheme.” Sherlock answered with some petulance.

“I know what I heard.”

“And what was it you thought you heard?” Sherlock took another bite of toast and chewed it sullenly.

John shook his head and approached the bed, sitting down. Something caught his eye on the blanket and he reached for it. It was a single condom. Of course the package had contained thirteen. Twelve had been connected together, leaving one to escape, unnoticed. John regarded the condom for a long moment before holding it out to Sherlock. 

“They aren’t mine.”

John raised both of his eyebrows and puckered his lips.

“Alright, yes… I do have a box of them. But I didn’t buy them.” Flustered he reached out to open the drawer and drop the single condom in before slamming it shut. 

“Of course not.” John mused and sat upon the chair, watching Sherlock continue to eat his toast.

“Your wife…” Sherlock began and then stopped to take another mouthful of toast so he didn’t have to continue.

“What about her?” John asked as he set a bare foot upon the edge of the bed.

“She gave them to me.” Sherlock finally answered after he swallowed the toast. “Because she doesn’t trust that I used clean needles.”

“Ahh…” John breathed as if that explained it all. The other foot came up and crossed at the ankles at the edge of the bed. “Did you use clean needles?”

“I don’t remember all of it… I think I did, but I’m not completely sure. When I was home, certainly. But the doss house…” Sherlock crammed the last of the toast in his mouth and chewed silently.

“Drink your tea before it gets cold.” John prompted.

The brunette glanced at the doctor before taking a sip from the mug and returning it to the night stand. His eyes glanced down to the remaining triangle of toast. “I’m not very hungry.”

John dropped his feet off the edge of the mattress and leaned forward to swipe the last piece from the plate. “You almost got through two slices. That’s progress.” The remaining triangle began to disappear into his mouth and he watched Sherlock as he chewed.

Sherlock returned his attention to his tea. “She thinks I should shag you.” 

John burst into a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from spraying chewed toast.

“I’m serious.”

Finally the doctor managed to gulp down the toast. “I know you’re serious.”

“Then why did you laugh?”

“You just came right out and said it!” John answered with a giggle.

“I know you don’t want to. I’m just thought you should know.”

“And that is what the condoms are for.”

Sherlock sniffled and took another gulp of tea before answering. “Yes.”

“You don’t have to use them.” John placed his feet back on the floor and sat forward in the chair.

“I don’t?”

“Sherlock… Not every relationship has a sexual component to it.” John chuckled softly. 

“Doesn’t it?” 

“No.” John leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest, staring up at the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t know.” Setting aside the plate he adjusted himself in the bed to lounge back on the pillows. “I’ve never had this sort of relationship before. I faked it… But it wasn’t real. She wanted me. But I knew it wasn’t real. I was tempted… To find out if it was as thrilling as people make it out to be. But I resisted. I knew it could never be real.” With a sigh, he felt helpless as he rolled onto his side, away from John to stare at the bedroom door.

“What is real, Sherlock?” John asked quietly. The edge of the bed dipped and a warm hand touched Sherlock’s side. “Am I real?”

Catching John’s hand on his side to keep it from tickling his sensitive ribs, he held it in his own. 

John shifted and climbed onto the bed behind him, once again the big spoon. His nose pressed against the back of Sherlock’s neck, blowing warm air against his skin. “I wish you had told me.”

“You were happy.” Sherlock breathed, threading his fingers with John’s. John’s fingers squeezed his hand as Sherlock pulled their hands to his belly. 

“And if I was unhappy, then what? Would you have told me then?”

“No.” Sherlock whispered, closing his eyes and pressing back into John’s warmth.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m broken!” Sherlock rolled away, face into the pillows. The movement released John’s hand as he embraced a pillow.

“Sherlock…”

“The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve…” The tears came and there was no way to stop them. Everything suddenly hurt. 

A warm hand touched his back and over time John’s gentle soothing words broke through the sobs.

There was quiet in the flat with only the sound of John’s hand lightly rubbing at the t-shirt clad back and an occasional soft “hush.” Sherlock shut his eyes, taking in John’s gentle touch on his back as he slowly regained his composure.

“I’m also broken… If you must know. When I came to live with you I was broken.”

“And then I broke you again when I jumped.” Sherlock didn’t mean for the words to sound cold... And yet they were. John’s hand flinched.

“I’m not perfect, Sherlock. But I do love you… And I know you love me. I understand that you jumped because you loved me and wanted to protect me. I wish you had told me your plan, but that’s not your way. You hide things. You hid that… You hid the drugs… You hid your feelings… You hid your plan to sacrifice yourself. When will you stop hiding from me?”

Sherlock was silent, rubbing his face against the pillow. 

John pulled his hand away and rolled over onto his back. “If you want sex… I can give you that.” John was silent for a long moment and then, “That sounded weird. Did that come out right? Maybe not. What I meant to say is… If you want a physical relationship with me, I’m open to it. God knows, Mary knows and is alright with it if the condoms are any indication.”

“You’re not…” Sherlock stopped and bit his lip.

“Gay?” John suggested.

“No… I mean… You’re not like that. You’re not into that. I know what you like… You like women. I’m not a woman.”

“You don’t think I’m aware of that?” John chuckled softly as he patted Sherlock’s hip. 

“How?”

“How?” John echoed as he rolled onto his side to settle beside Sherlock’s prone form.

“How would you go about… Doing it?”

“How would you have me do it?” John challenged.

Sherlock gave a frustrated snort and rolled over to face John’s annoying questions. “I don’t know. You tell me! You’re the one with experience.”

“Calm down.” John grinned, reaching out to touch Sherlock’s cheek. “I’m teasing you.” Tenderly his index finger traced the edge of the brunette’s jaw. “Does this bother you?”

“No.” Sherlock answered. “Should it?”

“I’m touching you.”

“I don’t mind.”

John smiled, one of his warm, generous smiles and scooted closer so they were pressed against each other.

Sherlock held still, feeling his heart pick up speed at the closeness and the warmth of John’s body. Is this what he wanted? John loved him… But could he ever be something more to him? Could he use the condoms in the night stand? Could they just be perfect together with soft gasps for air and the ultimate rush to shared bliss? Is that what he wanted? There was no doubt that if he was to ever share his body with anyone it would be with John.

“You alright?” John asked.

“I’m fine.” Sherlock replied, wrapping his arm around John’s waist to keep him where he was.

“Your breathing has changed.”

Sherlock held his breath in an attempt to control it, suddenly aware that he had been practically panting with his short, shallow breaths.

“Breathe, love.” John whispered and lightly kissed beneath his chin, sending warm breath against his neck. 

The brunette tightened his grip and pressed his mouth and nose to the crown of John’s head. In one terrifying moment he realized he didn’t want to let go. And yet he knew he had to. This moment would not last. Mary would return home. Despite what she hinted at John would never cheat on her with him. There was no way he could steal John away from her. His eyes began to sting and blur, tears forming and falling into his ear and catching on his nose.

John soothed him, rubbing a hand on his back. “It’s alright. We don’t have to. I’ll still love you, Sherl.”

“That’s not…” Sherlock began but lost his words. John didn’t even know why he was crying.

“Then what is it?” Pulling away, the blonde looked at him. Immediately his eyes softened with concern upon seeing the tears.

“I can’t take you away from her.” Sherlock answered, miserably. “I want to but I can’t. I can’t do it, John…”

John reached out and gently cupped Sherlock’s cheek in his hand. His hand smelled like soap and buttered toast. Sherlock wanted to turn his head and kiss John’s palm but he refrained. “Sherl…” 

Sherlock focused his gaze on John’s eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you for as long as you need me. However you need me… Whatever that means, I’m here.” Idly his thumb caressed Sherlock’s lips. “My wife shot you. She betrayed me and lied about her identity. I don’t know who she is aside from the name she claimed. I don’t even know why she’s with me. Why would an assassin fall in love with me?” Pulling his hand away, he continued to stare into Sherlock’s eyes. “You say I’m drawn to danger… What danger? She was a nurse. A nurse who happened to be an assassin…?”

Sherlock focused on John’s lips, watching him form words, feeling his warm breath on his face.

“You are not what you claim, you know. It’s not the same kind of betrayal. No... You push everyone away because you’re afraid of what will happen if someone gets too close.”

Sherlock bit his lips and shifted his focus to somewhere near John’s chin.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” John whispered. “You know that, right? I may get angry and frustrated with you from time to time… But I don’t want to hurt you.” His fingertips reached out to brush against Sherlock’s cheek, catching a tear. “It’s alright.” Suddenly shifting, his lips pressed against Sherlock’s forehead for several seconds before he wrapped his arm around the brunette’s head and pulled him closer.

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John’s body, wallowing in the warmth of the man that held him as if he was the most precious being in the world. All at once he wanted to weep and laugh at the same time. His stomach fluttered and he had a full erection. With his nose pressed against John’s shirt, he took in the doctor’s scent. It took his several seconds to realize that John’s hand was rubbing his back. The touch made him harder… As if it was physically possible to be any more erect. Shifting his leg, he felt John’s thigh pressed in a place that could almost create the best friction. What was wrong with him? How could his own body betray him with thoughts of sex?

John shifted his position, his thigh accidentally nudging Sherlock’s erection. The doctor paused for a moment and looked down towards his thigh before returning his focus to Sherlock’s face. 

Sherlock blushed.

“It’s alright. It’s normal.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and groaned. Of course it was normal… Normal people got sexually excited all the time. But Sherlock never considered himself to be normal.

“It seems you have two options…” John rolled away to reach out for the box of tissues, handing it to Sherlock. “I’ll give you a moment.”

Sherlock’s mind looped back to a previous part of the conversation. “How would you…?” 

John paused near the edge of the bed. “How would I what?”

“How would you do it?”

“Do what?”

“How would you force yourself to be with me if that’s what I wanted?”

“Sherlock… I wouldn’t be forcing myself.”

“If I wanted… That how would you… Do it?” Vaguely he indicated his lap.

“Right now? With how you are now?”

Sherlock nodded. “If I wanted help…”

John resumed his lounging position. “Do you want help?”

Sherlock bit his lip, torn between his mind and his heart. As with many things that concerned John, his heart won. He nodded once.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s waist and gently pressed his thigh against the bulge between the detective’s legs.

“Oh…” Sherlock gasped and immediately rolled over so he was on top of John, rubbing himself against the other man’s thigh. There had to be some sort of rule that said one wasn’t allowed to experience frottage with your best mate while that best mate was married. Sherlock was sure it was in some sort of book on social etiquette he had ignored. But it felt so good. Usually things like dry humping disgusted him… But this was good. It helped that John had a bulge of his own and that he writhed beneath the detective to bring it in contact with Sherlock’s thigh. 

But Sherlock needed more. Already he could imagine going through the same motions while completely naked, sliding skin on skin, hearing John’s soft moans meant only for him. But he had to settle for fully clothed frottage. John did softly moan beneath him. It occurred to him that that is how John would look if they were to ever use the condoms in the night stand drawer. The thought sobered him enough to make him pause and assess the situation.

John stopped writhing, looking up at Sherlock in confusion. “What’s wrong?” His hand soothed him at the base of his spine.

Sherlock shook his head. 

“Need more stimulation?”

Did Sherlock need more stimulation? Sure, he was hard. But could he finish just by frottage alone? What more could John have in mind? His head made a quick nod and then he held his breath, wondering what John’s reaction would be.

“Lift off a little.” John indicated Sherlock’s hip.

Sherlock obeyed and was rewarded with John’s hand pushing into the front of his pajama bottoms. A warm hand wrapped around him. His body gave an instinctual thrust and he felt all of his awareness collapse down into his penis. All his body wanted to do was take pleasure from that warm hand and the man it belonged to. “Fuck…” It was inelegant and crude, but he didn’t care. The word expressed everything he felt and wanted in that moment as he rutted into John’s warm fist, desperately wishing it was someplace warmer and intimate. 

John’s other hand wasn’t idle… It inched under Sherlock’s shirt and rested on his bare back, covering it with his warmth. “Like that?” His own hips were moving again rubbing himself shamelessly against the back if the hand that held Sherlock’s penis. “Feel good?”

A sudden wicked thought crept into Sherlock’s mind that if he asked for it John would give him anything. Could he act on it? Could he push John a little farther? Could he give a one word instruction and see how far John would take it? “More.”

John immediately released Sherlock’s penis and frantically pushed down the waistband of the detective’s pajama bottoms until they were down to his upper thighs. His hands then undid the button and zip of his own trousers, opening the fly to reveal the hardness in his own pants. 

Sherlock hooked his fingers in John’s trouser waistband and gave a little tug so they too were on his upper thighs, leaving him in only his pants. Immediately he covered John with his own body, making sure their erections were lined up, separated by the thin cotton of John’s pants.

John looked down and gave a soft chuckle. “It’s like… I’m a teenager again.”

Sherlock immediately imagined a teenaged John awkwardly fumbling his way through his first sexual encounter… Trying to experience an orgasm using only frottage so he wouldn’t get his partner pregnant because he hadn’t anticipated it and didn’t have any condoms. They had condoms… They were in the night stand drawer. How easy would it be to put one on and take John properly?

“Hey…” John whispered, touching Sherlock’s jaw and gently forcing the detective to look at him instead of the night stand. “Stay with me.”

Sherlock rolled off of John and was surprised when the blond doctor immediately rolled on top of him after kicking off his trousers. It was meant to give John an out… A way to end the encounter before Sherlock did something they both might regret. But John used it as an opportunity to take control. His thighs straddled Sherlock’s hips and he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on the side of the detective’s lips. John wasn’t a teenager… He was a full grown man with years of sexual experience and he knew how to move his hips just right to rub them together in such a way that made Sherlock’s toes curl. “Fuck…”

John ground them together, making sure Sherlock could feel his excitement. “Like this…”

It was too much. Sherlock could feel his testicles draw up. He was about to make an embarrassing mess all because John was rubbing up against him. With a gasp and a cry he felt himself fall over the edge and it took several long moments for his penis to stop pulsing and his mind to reboot. When he came back to himself John was still on top of him, resting their foreheads together. The hardness pressed against him indicated that John hadn’t ejaculated. Their bellies were a mess, covered in Sherlock’s semen… There was a lot of it. How long had it been since he last masturbated? Too long… It had been too long and there had been too much. And for a terrifying moment he imagined John would pull away, disgusted by what Sherlock had done… Evidence of his sexual excitement covering them both.

“It’s alright, Sherl… Relax. I’ve got you.” John whispered over and over until Sherlock finally realized that he had been saying it for at least a minute. “It’s alright…” John whispered and again kissed the side of Sherlock’s lips. 

“You didn’t…” Sherlock began.

“It’s alright.” John soothed. “This was about your needs, not mine.”

Tears began to burn and Sherlock fought the urge to cry, suddenly filled with self-loathing. Of course this had been about him and what he wanted. This wasn’t about John… John only did it because he felt obligated to do it. He had been caught up in Sherlock’s twisted, lustful fantasy.

“Hey… Don’t leave me.” John murmured, running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and forcing the detective to focus on him again. “You’re misinterpreting what I said.”

“How do you know that?” Sherlock asked, bitter.

“You asked me to help you with your needs. It was about you and what you needed. If I had finished before you, I wouldn’t have been able to satisfy you. I had to distract myself to keep from finishing. Because it wasn’t about me and what I wanted… It was about what you needed from me.”

“With your experience and stamina?” Sherlock was skeptical.

John bit his lips and sat up, making them both aware that he was still on top of Sherlock, straddling his pelvis. “Yes… Well, look at you. You are like a living god. One groan of ‘fuck’ in your posh voice nearly took me out. You said it twice.” John reached down and lightly touched his obvious erection in his pants. “If you want me to finish… Say it again.”

Sherlock’s mind was willing, but his body was weak. There was nothing more he wanted than to roll them over and whisper “fuck” over and over again as he took John’s body with his own… But he was limp. Instead he guided John into rolling off of him. Reverently he placed his hand on the outside of John’s pants, feeling the erect organ. Gently he squeezed, assessing the girth and the length through the cotton. John was staring at him, trusting him completely in whatever he had planned. But Sherlock didn’t have any clear plan. His hand squeezed again, his index finger pressing on John’s urethra through the thin fabric. He could feel dampness there as John’s breathing changed. And his eyes were dilated with lust. How could he have assumed that John only felt obligation? “Fuck…” Sherlock whispered, letting his tone express everything he wanted in one vulgar word.

John gasped, his eyes fluttered shut and his brows knitted together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Sherlock breathed, squeezing the organ in his grasp. His fingers slid under the waistband and made contact with warm flesh. “Fuck.” 

John cried out, his hips pushing up into the air and then he went still as wetness coated Sherlock’s fingers in pulse after pulse. They lay like that for a time with only John’s gasps for breath filling the silence. Suddenly he lunged at Sherlock and hungrily kissed his lips. 

Sherlock gaped in surprise, finding John’s tongue in his mouth. His soiled fingers were forgotten as he rested them on John’s hip, focusing instead on kissing the man back.

John broke the kiss and rested his head against Sherlock’s sternum. “I love you. You know that… I love you, Sherlock. Don’t do it again.”

Sudden fear filled Sherlock. “Do what?”

“Don’t overdose again. Do you hear me? I almost lost you.” His arms wrapped around Sherlock’s shoulders. “Don’t take drugs because of me… Don’t give up on me and start using again. I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t give up on me.”

“John…” Sherlock breathed, holding the other man close.

“No… Listen to me. I can’t lose you again. It nearly killed me last time. Can you imagine how it would affect me now that we’re doing this?” Vaguely he indicated both of their bodies. 

Sherlock could imagine. In his mind palace he saw John as he had been immediately after Sherlock’s faked suicide. John had been broken. 

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Like you mean it!” John demanded.

Sherlock looked into the doctor’s eyes. “I promise I won’t.”

“You won’t what?”

“I won’t take drugs because of you. I won’t give up on you again. I won’t leave you.”

John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock’s lips for a long moment before pulling away and sliding off the bed. “We need to clean up.” The blond held his hand out.

Sherlock took his hand and allowed John to pull him to his feet, aware that he was naked from the waist down. Hastily he pulled off his soiled shirt and tossed it away.

John smiled at him, amusement on his face. “You have no shame.”

“You’ve seen everything.” Sherlock answered as he headed towards the bathroom door.

“Were you like this with all your past lovers?” John queried.

Sherlock paused at the door, staring back at John. It seemed John didn’t know. Sherlock always assumed that after their first Christmas Mycroft might have pulled him aside and filled him in. Mycroft seemed to know everything and share that information with John on a regular basis… Why he would be quiet about this small detail didn’t make any sense.

“You have had past lovers, haven’t you?” John asked, concern written on his face.

Sherlock slightly shook his head, allowing John to interpret that any way he liked. Returning his focus to the bathroom door, he entered and wet a flannel in the sink to wipe the semen from his belly and hands.

John entered the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt. “Sherlock?”

“My brother is Ice Man and I am…”

“The Virgin.” John made eye contact with him in the mirror. “I’m sorry… I just assumed he was lying.”

“Don’t assume.” Sherlock replied shortly, rinsing off the flannel under the tap.

“It doesn’t matter, you know.”

“I know.” Sherlock answered, wringing out the flannel and turning to hand it to John.

“This doesn’t change anything. I was just curious about your past experiences. Now I know.” Hastily John cleaned himself up and tossed his soiled shirt into the hamper.

That annoyed Sherlock. “Of course it will change things.”

“Only a little. I’ll know to be careful with you.”

“I won’t break.”

John finished with the flannel and tossed it in the hamper. “Well… If it makes you feel any better you aren’t a virgin anymore.”

“That didn’t count.”

“Of course it counts.” John rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you think two men make love?”

Sherlock stared at him, mouth agape in surprise. “Um…” 

“Yeah… What you’re thinking of may be part of it, but that isn’t the only sexual thing two men can do together. What we did counted.”

Sherlock’s mind filled with all the possibilities. His mind supplied graphic depictions of what he could do with John now that the hurdle of losing his virginity and starting a sexual relationship presented itself. Those condoms in the night stand really could be of use soon.

“Sherlock?” John’s voice cut into the detective’s thoughts as a warm body pressed against his chest. “Come on, you’re still recovering and you’re cold.”

“You can warm me.”

“I’m going to put you back to bed while I go find another shirt and change my pants. Lunch isn’t for another three hours.” John guided Sherlock back to the bed and tucked him in. With a smile and a wave he left the room only to return a few minutes later wearing his own pajamas. “If I’m going to nap with you I may as well be comfortable.” Busying himself at the dresser, he pulled out another set of pajamas. “You can put these on.”

Sherlock did his best to ignore John’s offer of clothing.

With a sigh John instantly gave up and set the clothing aside before crawling into the bed. Once again he was the big spoon and wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s middle. “See? Here I am… Warming you.”

Sherlock absently rubbed John’s hand with his own.

“Are you upset that I was your first?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“Many think it should be special.”

“It was with you. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Next time I’d like to do more.”

John chuckled softly. “Of course.”

“What will Mary think when she sees us like this?” Sherlock mused, staring at the door.

“Sherlock… She bought you a box of condoms. I’m sure she’s expecting something like this.”

“What if we run out of condoms?”

“Then I will buy you more. And in a few months you won’t need them anymore. You’re a detective, I’m sure you can figure these things out… Unless you’re trying to make a point?”

“And what happens when your daughter is born and you’re too busy for me?”

“Then you’ll just have to be patient for a little while. I know you’re capable of it. Besides I’m hoping she will win you over with her Watson charm and you will become the doting uncle.”

“Doting uncle? Bloody hell…”

“You’ll make a brilliant uncle.” John lightly kissed Sherlock’s back.

“A brilliant uncle that occasionally shags her father so he can barely walk…” 

“You are rather confident about love making skills you have never tried.”

“I can imagine.” Sherlock answered defensively.

John patted Sherlock’s stomach. “Rest.”

Sherlock pouted and did as he was commanded.

^.~

Mary returned early to find John and Sherlock curled up, asleep together in Sherlock’s bed with John snoring softly. The detective lay on his back with John using his shoulder as a pillow, one arm wrapped around him. It was obvious that Sherlock wasn’t wearing anything. The brunette had kicked off half the blankets. Taking the edge of the blanket, she pulled it back into place, covering Sherlock. 

Sherlock startled awake and blinked up at her.

Putting a finger to her lips, she indicated John. “Don’t wake him.” Her whisper was only a breath.

Sherlock adjusted his grip on John’s back.

“Go back to sleep.” Mary breathed as she retreated out the door.

Sherlock stared at the door a moment before gently extracting himself from John’s grip. The doctor groaned and then resumed his snoring. Sherlock pulled on his robe and quietly left the room, finding Mary in the kitchen, making tea.

“I know you love him.” Mary stated from where she stood, filling the kettle with water. “And he loves you.” Turning around, she smiled at him. “You saved his life, you know… When you first met. He told me he was ready to give up. And he met you and you turned his life around. Then you jumped and he was right back where he started.”

Sherlock sat down at the table.

“When you came back you found he was happy. You tried to be happy for his sake. Because you love him. How long have you been in love with him?”

“Does it matter?” Sherlock asked, watching as she prepared two mugs.

Mary shook her head and shrugged as she poured the steaming water. Picking up the mugs, she carried them to the table and set them down as she sat. “Are you hungry?”

Sherlock shook his head and lifted his tea to his lips, testing the temperature with his lip before taking a small sip. It burned his tongue. 

“Would you kill for him?”

Sherlock set his tea down and stared at it, licking his lower lip. “I have killed for him.”

Mary nodded as if satisfied by his answer. 

“And he has killed for me. Back when we first met… He killed to protect me.”

“He never told me that.”

“A cab driver… He abducted me and tried to get me to take poison. John killed him. I think that’s when I first started to feel like he was mine.” Sherlock began to think back to that moment with Hope and the pill.

“Possessive?” Mary smirked.

“A little. No one had ever cared if I lived or died. He cared. It was a new experience for me. I liked it. I began to crave his attention and his approval… And I found I cared about him and his well-being.”

“And before you knew it you found you had fallen in love with him.” Mary stated. 

Sherlock stared at her, wondering if she was admitting how an assassin nurse had fallen in love with a doctor.

“Someone should have woken me up…” John yawned as he padded into the kitchen. “I overslept.”

“You needed the sleep.” Mary answered.

Sherlock handed John his own mug of tea and watched as John drank from it without comment on the temperature. It was still hot, but no longer scalding.

John kissed the top of Mary’s head and then rounded the table to do the same to Sherlock before sitting down to drink the tea he had been given. 

“We have to find out why Moriarty is back.” Mary informed the table.

John nodded in agreement and hummed in approval through his tea.

“But first you have to promise to stay sober.” Mary frowned at Sherlock. “No more drugs.”

“I promised John.”

“Well then… It’s agreed.” Mary smiled at him.

“Agreed.” Sherlock answered, staring at the table. His eyes focused on John’s fingers lightly tapping on the surface of the table. Making eye contact, he was rewarded with a wink and a lewd smirk. It caused his stomach to flip and his penis to harden with interest. Perhaps staying sober for John’s sake wouldn’t be so bad. 

\--Fin

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just trying to post this before NaNoWriMo starts (in 90 minutes!). I'll go back and fix any errors when I get a chance to re-read.


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